Cerulean Skies
by Kylara Kitsune
Summary: In a world where those with magic are persecuted, old friends Scorpius and Rose find each other again.


**AN: I must have started writing this a year ago, and recently discovered the first four hand-written pages languishing in a pocket of my bag. Since Scorpius/Rose are presently one of my favourite couples to write, it seemed a shame not to use the story. As ever, characters are not mine.**

"Excuse me, but... do I know you from somewhere?"

The tap on my shoulder, followed by that question, was the last thing I expected in the nearly deserted supermarket. I'd dashed in after work, and I must have looked very dishevelled. I certainly felt it. I turned around, to see who had spoken. The man didn't look at all familiar, but still... There was something about that voice. It reminded me of my days at school, those seven years, so long ago, that I can no longer talk about, for fear of discovery.

"No, I don't think so."

Even if I had known him at school, it would simply have been too dangerous to ask him, or acknowledge it if he asked me. For all I knew, he might have been scouting for information, hoping I'd give myself away. None of us, my kind of people, went by our real names any more, so even my closest friends from back then wouldn't recognise the name I'm currently using.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, then."

His facial expression was what gave it away. There isn't a single member of my family who wouldn't recognise that infamous smirk.

"Wait." He turned back round to face me, and I looked more closely. Physically, there was no resemblance, but the posture, the expressions, even that quirk of the eyebrow as he stood there. I knew who he was, definitely. We'd been best friends. Problem was, I didn't know how to address him. I solved the problem by holding out my right hand for him to shake. "I'm Juliet Evans."

He took my hand, the smirk turning into an actual smile. "Luke Black."

Oh, if you knew how to interpret them, those names were full of links to our past, our families, and what we were. However, it wasn't obvious unless you'd actually worked out our real names. Abandoning my shopping entirely, I followed him out to the car park, where we both climbed into his car. I didn't even spare a thought for my car – nobody was going to steal a heap of rust like that.

It wasn't long before we arrived at his house, a remarkably normal building, if a bit isolated, when you consider who he was and how he'd grown up. Once inside, I wondered if it was safe to talk freely. He seemed to think so.

"Well, well, Rose Weasley. I wondered where you'd been hiding all this time."

"I could say the same about you, Scorpius Malfoy."

We looked at each other for a few moments, then hugged fiercely. Just after we'd left Hogwarts, this ridiculous war between wizards and Muggles had broken out. Mum (Hermione Granger, heroine of the war against Voldemort, in case you didn't know) decided that we'd be safest if we lived as Muggles. It was alright for her – she's muggleborn. Dad found it hard, and still does. It makes me glad he never mastered wandless magic, because so many people have been caught out that way. We still have our wands, by the way, but they're disguised in a fake floral arrangement, and don't actually look like wands.

As much as I appreciate still being alive, I desperately missed my friends, particularly Scorpius. I'd heard rumours, of course, about what had happened to the Malfoys, but I never did believe rumour.

"Where on earth have you been, Scorp?"

"Oh, around. Here and there. I've done a lot of travelling, actually. Thought about sending you some postcards, but realised I didn't know your address."

Trust Scorpius to go off and visit exotic places while the rest of wizardkind are in hiding. It's so typical of a Malfoy. I'm not angry about that, by the way. In fact, it's reassuringly normal.

I punched him playfully in the shoulder, and asked whether he'd forgotten how to use the useful Muggle invention commonly known as the telephone. I'd taught him how to use it, during a Muggle Studies lesson. Yes, he took Muggle Studies. I remember it well.

_The gasps when Scorpius Malfoy walked into the Muggle Studies classroom were so loud, you could probably hear them from the Quidditch pitch._

"_What's Malfoy doing in this class?"_

"_He must be lost, or Confunded, or something."_

_Calmly ignoring them all, Scorp sat down next to me, just like he did in every other class we shared. I, of course, had known he'd be here – he'd argued for ages with his dad over it. In the end, he'd won._

"I haven't forgotten how to use it, Rosie. I didn't think it'd be safe. You know I'd have called you if I could."

We'd spent hours, every summer, on the phone to each other. It was so much more convenient than writing endless letters. Instead of answering, I looked around the room. It was very plain, nothing like Malfoy Manor, where he'd grown up. I liked it. However, the framed photograph on the table caught my eye. I wandered over and picked it up, recognising Scorp's parents straight away. Wizarding pictures move, and this one was completely stationary. Either it was a Muggle print, or he'd cast a spell on it. Not that it mattered.

"What happened to them?" I couldn't help asking, despite the fact that they'd never liked me.

"They Avada'd themselves." It was a very matter-of-fact statement, and I can't say I was surprised by it. His parents believed purity of blood was everything – they would definitely have preferred death over life as Muggles. It was one of the many things they disliked about me – although my mum is a witch, she's muggleborn.

"I'm... sorry to hear that."

"No need to pretend, Rose. We both know you and they didn't get along."

I looked away, suddenly feeling awkward. A hand on my shoulder made me look up. His silver-grey eyes were directly in front of me, and I was reminded of when we first met, as eleven-year-olds, on the Hogwarts Express. The war had been over for nearly twenty years, and we had our whole lives ahead of us, full of possibility and opportunities. How things were to change during the next seven years.

_The Muggle rebellion, as we called it at first, was just beginning as Scorpius and I entered our sixth year at Hogwarts. I never was very clear on the details, but there was definitely something about the non-magical siblings of various muggleborn students. They were jealous, probably. Anyway, that's where it all began, with hateful letters and vicious "pranks". Mum said it was reminiscent of the time she was sent an envelope of bubotuber pus. The worst that I can recall was a girl in Hufflepuff – she opened a birthday present to find a bottle of her favourite perfume. Except it wasn't perfume at all; it was concentrated acid, which burned her skin fiercely. Retaliation was only to be expected, and what began as a jealous squabble turned into a full-on fight. More people were dragged in on both sides, Muggles everywhere found out about the magical world, and it just escalated further from there._

_The first deaths were a wizarding family – their home was set alight one night while they slept. They never had a chance. If the fire had been magical, their wards would have woken them, but Muggle methods went undetected. I remember it well, it was a few days before my NEWT exams began._

"How have you been, Rose?"

"Fine, absolutely fine."

"The truth, Rosie." I've never been able to lie to Scorpius. He can always tell.

"The truth, Scorp? I hate being in hiding. I've done nothing wrong except being born a witch, and there's nothing at all I can do about that. I miss my friends. I dread every time someone asks me about my school days, even casually, because I have to lie, and I'm worried I'm going to slip up one day, and then the Muggles will kill me, burn me at the stake like they did in the Middle Ages, to use their phrase." I know tears are streaming down my face, and I swipe angrily at them with the back of my hand. Scorpius finds a tissue from somewhere and gently dries my eyes.

"I want this to end as much as you do, Rosie. But I don't think it will, unless we leave here and go someplace where we'll be left alone. The Muggles here know too much about us now."

"Even if I could just get away from it all for a while, it would help."

"That part, I can do. For as long as you want." He's smiling, the way he used to at school when he was hatching a plan. It inevitably involved the two of us, some well-hidden part of the school, secret passages and things we shouldn't even know about, let alone be doing. The Valentine's prank in fifth year was probably my favourite.

"_Are you sure about this?"_

"_Absolutely. Nothing can possibly go wrong." I gulped. Every time Scorp said that, we were nearly caught. One day, I knew our luck would run out._

"_Ok, then. Let's go."_

_It was early morning on February 14__th__, Valentine's Day, and we'd been up all night getting things prepared for breakfast and the morning post. Several singing Valentines had been carefully made, and were ready to be delivered over breakfast. We'd picked our targets, and written the songs, incredibly carefully, to cause maximum embarrassment. A few drops of a particularly tricky to make potion would be added to my cousin James's morning pumpkin juice, so he'd make a spectacle of himself in front of a girl he was trying desperately to impress, but she was having none of it. If he'd had a chance with her, we wouldn't have been as cruel, of course. Uncle Harry said it sounded just like his father, James's namesake, and his mother, Lily Evans. The Marauders, naturally, would have done exactly the same as we're doing now – I mean, Scorp and I are only carrying on a family tradition, right?_

_I know what you're thinking – he's a Malfoy, so what link could he possibly have to the legendary Marauders? Well, his grandmother was Narcissa Black, cousin of Sirius Black, better known as Padfoot._

_Actually, it wouldn't just be the Marauders that would be proud of me; my uncles Fred and George would be too. Uncle Fred died in the war, and Uncle George lost an ear on an epic rescue mission._

"What are you suggesting?"

"Let's just say I know somewhere, hot and sunny, where the Muggles would have great difficulty finding us. Interested?"

"You bet I'm interested. How soon can we leave?"

"I'd have to arrange a few things, but I should be able to get tickets within, say... a couple of days?"

"I'll pack my suitcases, shall I?"

He grinned, hugged me again. "Hot and sunny, remember. Still got your wand?"

My mouth fell open in shock. "You're not suggesting we apparate?"

"I said I had to get tickets, remember? No, we're not apparating, but you might want your wand when we get there. Disguise it, pack it in the bottom of your case. And remember to bring your passport."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Have I ever led you wrong?" A wink, and I knew he was thinking of the same incident that sprang to my mind. We'd only got it wrong once, but believe me, it was not a pleasant experience.

_End of sixth year, we'd been studying Animagi in Transfiguration. We'd been told, under no circumstances, to attempt it on our own. Those words should never have been spoken to us. Perfect example of a red rag to a bull. It made us even more determined to try it, and to succeed. _

_We'd read all the theory, and knew the incantation perfectly. In the Room of Requirement, we stood there facing each other._

"_Ready?"_

"_As I'll ever be."_

_The first few times, nothing happened. Then, Scorpius's blond hair turned even paler, and his eyes reddened. What happened next, I don't know, because I was suddenly a lot smaller than I had been. The way Scorpius tells it, I'd sprouted fur in a few places and shrunk to maybe fifteen inches high. We had to go to the infirmary to be turned back, Scorpius carrying me because I would never have been able to keep up with him otherwise. Madam Pomfrey muttered and moaned, declaring we were more trouble than anyone since the Marauders. It took a week, a very painful, humiliating week, for her to fix everything, during which time we received countless lectures about how we should be setting a good example for the rest of the school, and what were we thinking, and how our parents were being informed, etc etc. I don't know what my parents thought about it, but Aunt Ginny wrote, telling me a funny story about Draco Malfoy and animal transfiguration (he'd been turned into a ferret during his fourth year by a Death Eater masquerading as a teacher)._

_Once we'd been released from the hospital wing, it was only a matter of time before we tried again. On the second attempt, it worked. We scampered round the floor of the Room of Requirement, revelling in the fact that we'd done it, we were Animagi. Then, we found ourselves in front of a mirror. Had we been able to laugh, we'd have been in hysterics. Our dads had been known to each other, at school, as "Ferret" and "Weasel". We stood in front of the mirror on our hind legs, front paws resting on the frame. A ferret and a weasel stared back at us, wide-eyed and disbelieving._

_We celebrated for days, once we'd figured out how to turn ourselves back. I wrote off to the Ministry of Magic for the papers to register our Animagus forms, and we filled them in gleefully._

True to his word, Scorpius had tickets within two days. He called me to let me know we were leaving that week. I'd already packed. My wand, disguised as a pen, was safely tucked into my suitcase, covered by my clothes. I resigned from work, told my landlord I'd be moving out, since this was going to be a one-way trip, and shifted my few belongings to Scorpius's house. Even at this stage, he refused to tell me where we were going. Not that I cared.

Finally, as our taxi approached the airport, he handed me a ticket. Made out in the name of Juliet Evans, it was for a flight from London, Heathrow to Cancun, Mexico.

"Cancun? A bit crowded there, isn't it?"

"That's just the nearest airport. Where we're going is down the coast a bit, a much quieter place. You'll like it."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

He was right. A small town not far from Cancun, a house in walking distance of gorgeous sandy beaches, it was paradise. Warm seas to swim in, a cloudless cerulean blue sky.

"Thank you, Scorp."

"No need. I'd have brought you here before, if I'd known where to find you. I missed you, you know."

I reached over and hugged him. "Missed you, too, Ferret."

I expected him to return the hug, but the kiss on my cheek surprised me. It wasn't really Scorp's style. Silver-grey eyes looked out at me from the face I remembered, and I realised he'd dropped the charms hiding his real appearance. I did the same, feeling the brown curls tumbling over my shoulders.

"Merlin, you're gorgeous, Rose."

"Scorpius..." We'd never been lovers, not once. Hadn't even been tempted, or at least, I hadn't. I suppose at school, we knew too many of each other's bad habits, and we'd been partners in crime for far too long. But now, here, when we'd been apart for so many years, it was different. We could be ourselves, we didn't have to hide from each other.

Even now, I couldn't tell you who made the first move. It was as though we just melted into each other's arms, no hesitation on either my part or his. The kiss felt so right, felt like we belonged together. It was to be the start of a beautiful relationship.

Our wedding was held a year later, right there on that beach. My parents, aunts and uncles all flew over for it, Dad clinging to Mum's arm all the way, squealing when they hit a patch of turbulence over the Atlantic Ocean. The story was related to me when they arrived, by several different people, between fits of giggling. Dad, of course, fumed all the time they were telling me.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was probably coincidence, but the day of our wedding was the day a peace treaty was signed between Muggles and wizards, agreeing an end to the fighting. I like to think of it as a good omen, that better times were coming, that maybe one day wizards could live in peace, side by side with the Muggles. As for Scorp and myself, we still live in that town in Mexico. It's where we ran to when we'd nowhere else to go, it's where we fell in love, it's where we married. There are so many memories here, good ones. I see the beach and it reminds me how lucky I am, lucky to still be alive when so many wizards and witches died, lucky to have found my best friend after so many years, lucky to have found the love of my life.


End file.
